Duke goes down! What lesson do we learn?

Duke - mighty Duke - got beat by Mercer today.

Coach K - the household name, Olympic gold medal winning coach, 4-time national championship winning coach - out in the first round.

A 14 seed beat a 3 seed. A huge upset! Not the biggest of all time. Seven times a 15 seed has beaten a 2 seed.

But Duke - mighty Duke - beaten by a team that very few people know.

Is there a lesson for schools?

Perhaps it is this: The inevitable isn't always inevitable.

In schools we fight against some seemingly intractable problems. In our district achievement gaps continue to confound us. We have made closing achievement gaps a district goal. We have spent time, money, attention on trying to identify ways to close achievement gaps. Yet they persist.

As a result it is tempting to make excuses. Those kids who aren't achieving - well those are our special education kids, those are our ESL kids. Those tests that measure growth and achievement - they don't really work very well for our kids.

Yet if I am the parent of any student in my district, I send my child to your school because I believe that you can help. If you can't right away, I believe that you will find a way. As a parent, I do not want to hear that my child can't achieve because he has special needs or because his first language is not English.

No, when I send my child to your school I trust that you can help.

As a parent I understand that I have a part to play. I need to read to my child. I need to make sure they are cared for and nurtured. I need to establish routines. I have an important role to play.

But I send them to school to learn. Don't tell me that my child can't learn or that it is really hard.

If Duke vs. Mercer teaches us anything, maybe it is the lesson that "can't" or "won't" - as in can't win or won't win or can't learn or won't learn - should not be part of our vocabulary.

Instead, we should say - we will find a way. Nothing is impossible!

You have to be kidding!

Blogging with 1st graders?

You have to be kidding!

1st graders need to learn the basics. They need to learn how to write with a pencil. They need to learn how to spell. They need to learn like I did.

But do they really?

The children that we have in our classrooms were born into a world where computers are not a new and scary thing. These students understand the power that technology brings to their lives.

Certainly, these students need to know how to read, write, and think. But blogging provides a tool that can engage them in deep and powerful ways.

Today at MACUL, two first grade teachers from Deerfield Elementary in Novi - Sherry Griesinger and Lindsay Pintar - spoke passionately about how their students - in first grade - were blogging.

Real audiences. Real content. Real writing.

Blogging with 1st graders is not only possible but should be happening!

The (limited) power of analytics

Data is in vogue. 

Athletics has begun to use data - changing how we believe we can create success in athletics. Moneyball - using data to make decisions about baseball players - was an early example. First it was a book and then a movie. (Starring Brad Pitt no less!) 

Then along came the MIT Sloan Sports Analytics Conference:

a conference dedicated to analyzing sports - from analyzing over a million pitches to see how umpires change how they call balls and strikes to predicting how a pitcher will do in the next inning.

But just because we can get all of this data, does it mean it is good for us to make every decision based on data?

Some are beginning to question whether we are becoming "digitally obese." 

"Technology will absolutely stay on its exponential course and make information wider, deeper, and faster. Unless we find a way to deal with this constant tsunami of possibilities, we may ultimately all become digitally obese. . ."

The same phenomenon is happening in education. 

We have more information. We have faster information. 

But do we have the right information?

We can track a student's growth and his/her achievement every year they have been in school. Correspondingly, we believe we can use that to measure the impact a teacher has had - the added-value of the teacher.

But is that really what we are doing? Does the data really show us what we think it shows us?

I believe that parents send their children to our schools so that they will learn. Those of us who are in schools need to be able to show that a student's life has been enriched in our schools. We need to be able to show that a student has learned. 

We need to do this because we are not babysitters. Our job in education is not to keep students out of trouble or to keep them "busy" while their parents are at work. 

Our job is to educate.

We now have state tests, national tests, and benchmarked assessments. We have scaled scores, percentile ranks, and projected growth metrics.

But do we have what we need to sit with a parent and describe the change that has happened in a student's life? Does the data do the job for us? 

Or is there something missing when all we rely on is data?

I think that data has its place. But the real power of schools is not just to give a parent a "number." No - the real power in schools is to be able to have a conversation about the change that has occurred in a student. Are they engaged? Are they interested in school? Do they get excited about learning? Can they apply what they know to their life outside of school? Are we seeing them develop a passion about ideas?

There is power in numbers.

But the real power of school cannot be captured in just a number. No the real power of school is displayed by students and teachers who love to learn.

Trying to scare teachers to death

They've tried.

They've tried really hard.

It seems like there is a conspiracy to scare teachers to death.

In fact, they have tried to scare almost anyone who works for a public school to death.

The dominant narrative is that public schools have failed, students don't learn, and teachers (and other public school employees) are to blame.

Yet, every day teachers and principals and bus drivers and food service workers and tech support staff and preschool teachers show up and do their job.

Why?

Because instead of focusing on those people who say public schools don't work, those that work for public schools focus on doing their job. When students are waiting for the bus, they bus driver shows up. When students want to eat, the food service staff provides lunch. When students want to learn, teachers are there to help.

The people who have tried to scare us to death are the people who have never been the teacher, the bus driver, the food service worker. They don't visit our schools. They don't ride our buses. They don't cook our meals. They haven't coached our teams, led our choirs, directed our bands and orchestras.

The student who just threw up - the teacher took care of that. And then continued teaching.

The student who threatened to beat up Jimmy - the bus driver talked him down. And continued driving the bus.

The student who finally aced the exam - the teacher silently celebrated while the student told all her friends about how hard she worked.

There are things that go on every day in a school that only those who work in a school understand and know how to handle. There are reasons to celebrate, reasons to worry, reasons to stand back, and reasons to jump in.

It's not that those who work in public schools aren't scared. It's that those who work for public schools understand that the students in our schools, the children in our communities need what happens in school. So they show up. They do their jobs. They figure out the answers to the problems. They dance when there are reasons to celebrate.

So you might as well give up trying to scare us. We aren't going away. We are going to show up every morning to do our jobs.

And . . . we will do them well.

My most important job

What is the most important thing I do everyday?

Let me re-phrase that. What is the most important job I am supposed to do everyday?

This summarizes it fairly well.

From: http://www.leadlearner.com/lyn-hilt

I am like most of you. I have a lot of "important" things to do each day. I can often inflate my sense of self by listing everything that I should get done each day.

I also depend on others to get a lot of things done. 

In schools there are a lot of things to do every single day.

But the most important thing I should do each day is let the people I care about know that I care about them.

If I do that - everything else will begin to fall in place.

That does not mean that I don't focus on all of those important things. Budgets, teacher evaluations, administrative evaluations, Board of Education relations, policy, student discipline, bus issues, parent complaints, building issues, morale, state assessments, legislative mandates. The list could go on.

I am not supposed to forget those things. I am not supposed to spend my day expressing to others that I care about them and not get my job done.

But in the midst of all those things people should know that they are more important than the job. 

Sometimes I forget that. Sometimes I am sure that I communicate to people that who they are, what they care about, what they want to accomplish in their life is not nearly as important as getting the job done.

And that's not right.

Every one should know that they are important first. Then the job will get done.

Have we created a system that encourages us to be liars?

In an interesting reflection in the New York Times Dr. Sandeep Jauhar says:

The doctor-patient relationship is ideally an intimate partnership 

where information is exchanged openly and honestly. 

That is seldom the reality, however.  

He identifies the variety of lies and deceptions that are either accepted or tolerated:

1. Lies that patients tell doctor
2. Lies doctors tell patients
3. Lies doctors tell themselves

As I read this article I thought about schools. 

Have we created a system that encourages lying?

We have a variety of relationships in education. Student and teacher - clearly the most important relationship. But we also have the parent and teacher, teacher and teacher, teacher and administrator, administrator and Superintendent, Superintendent and the Board of Education, and the district and the community.

For these relationships to flourish, there must be, as Dr. Jauhar suggests, a "partnership where information is exchanged openly and honestly." 

I have been in every one of these relationships. Creating an honest relationship is difficult. In each relationship there comes a point and a time where deception, while not warranted, is considered and often becomes a tool that is used.

Harsh? Too pointed?

Perhaps.

A Superintendent is evaluated by the Board of Education. How honest should the Superintendent be? If student achievement is trending down, does the Superintendent identify it clearly or does the Superintendent paint a picture that deflects and shifts responsibility to others - staff, parents, lack of community support?

A parent asks about her child's performance. How honest should the teacher be? The data suggests that the student needs additional focused assistance. Does the teacher make the case or soft-pedal it?

A principal evaluates a teacher. The teacher needs improvement. How honest should the principal be? The principal knows the teacher has had a difficult year. Is the context important?

A teacher grades a test. The student fails. Does the teacher have a conversation with the student? Does the teacher clearly identify her concern? How honest should the teacher be? Does the teacher begin to consider what the parent will say? Does the teacher begin to consider what the principal will say?

Dr. Jauhar concludes his article with these words:

In the end, we all practice a certain amount of self-deception. 

But when it originates in the doctor-patient dyad, 

patients are usually the worst victims.

The same words could be used for the relationships in education. Self-deception hurts us all. but it hurts the students most. 

Data - hammer or flashlight?

Is student achievement data a hammer or a flashlight?

Clearly student achievement data provides information. It identifies student performance on a variety of assessments. We get state assessments like the MEAP. We get national assessments like the NWEA. We even have teacher created assessments.

All provide insight into student performance. But how are we supposed to use the information that these assessments provide?

The obvious answer, to me at least, is that I want student achievement data to be a flashlight. I want to use data to help people see, to light the way, to help illuminate things that otherwise would not be seen.

Using data as a flashlight also lessens data as a threat. People - administrators, students, teachers, parents, and community members - come to see that we are trying to use data to move forward. We are not interested in punishing people. We want to use data to help us find answers.

But data, truthfully, is a hammer. It is a hammer because people personalize it. Results are seen as a direct reflection on them. Teachers see it as a reflection on their teaching. Students see it as a reflection on who they are, not as a chance to take a pulse check. Parents see it as a reflection on them as a person and a referendum on their parenting.

Data is also a hammer because states are mandating that we make judgements about people using data. Data becomes one of the measures that we are required to use in evaluations. We rate teachers effective or ineffective based, in part, on data.

Data used in this way becomes a hammer.

But this must change. Student achievement data must be seen as a flashlight. Data gives information. With information we can see a way forward.

Student achievement data allows us to ask questions. Does the achievement of the students reflect their ability? Why or why not? How does the student achievement data give you insight into your own instructional practice? What is working? What doesn't work?

These questions are asked not to point fingers and assign blame. Instead the questions are asked to guide us. The questions light the way. Helping all of us to improve. A flashlight not a hammer.

Those of us in leadership have to make a conscious and deliberate effort to communicate that we believe data is a flashlight. It provides insight. In our conversations, in our writing, in our off-handed commentary we must make sure that our message is consistent - data is a flashlight.